The Wish
by anatolydurov
Summary: Sometimes you have to fall without hope of being caught...A happy-ish ending for those beautiful and tragic lovers, Alice and Uncas.


_Author's note: Grazie mille to those who have reviewed. It means a lot to me._

Alice walked haltingly in a slow little arc on the cliff, keeping just out his reach, her back to the open sky, her eyes wide and fearful. She stepped backwards and felt that her feet were on the cliff's edge. She stopped; behind her now there was nothing but empty air. Slowly she turned her head and looked down; with strange detachment her eyes searched for the ground so far below.

Uncas was down there somewhere, in some wretched gully, or on some jagged tooth of rock, but fallen beyond sight. The knowledge of this perched cruelly and alienly at the fore of her mind. There was something phantasmagoric about it. It shouldn't be believed, but then also, it must. She had seen it and to see is to believe, or so they say. Her own eyes had seen the cruel length of Magua's blade had sunk into Uncas - had seen the path its wielder mercilessly cut through the soft flesh of his opponent; the dark coloured shirt turn darker still as blood soaked through it. She knew that this was true; Uncas was dead. It shouldn't be true, for just moments before he had been alive and invulnerable, but it was.

Time seemed to stretch out. Almost idly she thought to herself, '_So this is how I die_.' She found herself recalling a moment from childhood. Her father had tossed her, shrieking with pleasure, high into the air; caught her when she fell. She had loved the feeling of momentarily flying, of the air suddenly rushing across her skin, even the soles of her feet. There was pleasure as well, though, in the feeling of falling and of landing in the safety of her father's arms. To fall with no hope of being caught…It was a kind of bravery that had never before been required of her.

As Magua watched her, his hand still tight on his knife, he was surprised to see that her hateful face had lost its fear. She turned her eyes back to him; her gaze was naked, at once fierce and sorrowful. In those moments that seemed to stretch to hours, Magua saw in her face her resolution and beckoned to her with his hand. Again she thought, '_so this is how I die_,' but this time not just to herself, but also addressing that mysterious and omnipotent figure she had been taught to believe in as a child; the one to whom the hymns relate, who existed beyond sight, beyond the sky, who was merciful and cared for innocents. She thought,

'_Is this your will, then – _

_does it fit your purpose that I be dashed on these rocks? _

_Was it always to have been like this – _

_was my life always to have reduced so soon to the bitterness of cruelty and death, and I never given to be wife or mother, _

_as I had imagined? _

_I'm going to my death so soon it seems.'_

She had never been particularly pious and her thoughts now were perhaps too bitter to be called prayers. As she turned her face away from Magua she thought,

'_I know that this is blasphemy,_

_and at the very moment when I should commend my soul to you, but…_

_I don't accept your will, if this be it! _

_What is the use to you that I, or Uncas, should die like this?..._

_The life you give is too messy and too cruel,_

_and happiness is held out only to be snatched away.' _

Calmly, slowly, almost carelessly, like one slipping into a lake, not leaping off a cliff, Alice stepped out into the empty air; and as she sent herself out into that emptiness, she made a wish. She wished not to be the victim of cruel mischance or malevolent intent, nor of the indifference of a supposedly benevolent god. To wake again to an earthly morning, and see the sun filtering through green leaves; under those same green leaves to see Uncas again, moving gracefully through the trees, his curious eyes on her face.

She wished for more as she fell.

-o-

It was the feeling of his cold, water-logged clothing. Everywhere that it clung to him was a spot of sensation, and combining they delineated a form. Before, floating in pain and then in pearly grey, he had become formless, like mist. Like mist driven across a lake he had felt himself propelled through this mysterious grey space; a colour or an absence of colour, it could not be told. Even as he was thus propelled, the_ he_ which moved became less certain. In his life _he_ had been a solitary and contained thing, like a single dew drop on a leaf, his sense of self confirmed by the constant boundaries of his body. Then, like the dew drops that are evaporated by the warmth of the sun and mingle, solitary no longer, in the air,_ he_ had drifted wide, his self spread out like a nebula cloud, and the selves of others, similarly dispersed, had mingled with him. They rushed together through the grey nothing, till it seemed that they moved, faster and faster, towards a growing light. It seemed as though a sun was rising through the mist, and the grey was turning to white as the light grew larger and brighter. Like a cloud of moths drawn to the eternal and proverbial flame, they rushed blissfully towards it.

Almost at the point where the light became everything, where it would swallow him and the others with whom he was mingled, suddenly there was a word. Spoken by young female voice in that soundless grey place, it rang, clear and pure, like a struck bell.

_Uncas._

The scattered parts of his self were then all frozen still. The wind-like rushing of other selves around him continued, but _he_ was no longer drawn. The word echoed, insistently. They were familiar, those two syllables, that voice. A memory stirred, sleepily. The scattered self coalesced. He was drawn back, towards the word and the voice.

-o-

A subdued light glowed through Uncas' closed eyelids. His clothes were wet and heavy around his body. He could recall – but the memory of it was fading away quickly, like a dream – how just before everything had seemed weightless and insubstantial. Now the world was all sensation, and the heaviness and solidity of his own body surprised him.

His eyes flickered open and he saw the blue sky of early morning. Clear golden light slanted through the surrounding trees.

The sky was the palest blue, the colour of the flower the English call bluet, or innocence, and it was cloudless. Hanging in it, like a ghostly moon, was the vague memory of the grey place he had returned from. Other memories, lost when he had been lost and scattered, were regained. One such memory bloomed in his consciousness like a malign rose. His hand went to his side, reaching up under his shirt, tracing the curve of his stomach below his ribs where the skin was smooth and unbroken. It shouldn't have been. The memory was vivid, incontestable.

Dazedly he pushed himself upright. His eyes swept around what he could now see, registering a broad sluggish river, which tugged gently at his feet as he lay at its edge on a stony bank. The river was instantly familiar to him; it was the Mahicannituck, the river of his people, by whose side he had been born.

A cool wind blew against him. He shivered and stood, pulling his feet from the river's shallow edge. As he went to strip the wet garments from his body he looked further up the river and stopped. There was someone on the edge of the river, face up to the sky, with feet in the water; laying just as he had. His eyes struggled with the hazy morning light. He started to walk towards the figure, but hesitantly; perhaps he approached a spirit; on this unreal morning, back in the land of his birth, it did not seem unlikely to him. As he drew closer the edges of the figure sharpened to his eyes. He recognized the curves and planes of her face, and he called her name even as he ran towards her.

_Alice._

-o-

Something like a wild animal cry woke her. Her eyes started open. The world was suddenly wide and blue, where it had been fathomless black. She raised her self off her back and her mind reeled fearfully. Nothing she saw made any sense. The cry came again, closer now, and this time she knew it wasn't an animal's cry. She turned and saw him as he ran the last distance between them. She struggled to her feet and they faced each other; their breathing strangely loud, their minds stunned. He had just called her name, but now he felt mute as she stared back at him, with strands of wet hair like dark ribbons on her pale forehead.

Her heart raced. For an instant she didn't see him; she saw instead a spectre, with a face as smooth and sharply angular as a mask, carved of dark wood; the Indian from childhood nightmare. The moment passed; she saw the beads of water on his brow; below this his familiar expressive eyes, trained on hers. She heard him breathing, as loud and fast as her. The beat of her heart slowed.

Their speechlessness seemed occult; like a mirror that they both hesitated to break. Eventually her own voice surprised her. It seemed to come from somewhere other than her throat and it was addressed to the empty air as much as to him. 'This isn't real, is it?' The silence threatened to close over again, like ice mending. Fearing it, she was compelled to continue speaking. 'Do you think…are we dead?'

At first he didn't answer, he just looked at her. The slight wind was in the leaves, and this sound mingled with their breathing. He took his eyes off her face and turned them to the river, which flowed past, serene and beautiful, as familiar to him as his own father. Finally he spoke. 'I felt…something like death. I don't think this it.'

She held her hands up in front of her and looked at them carefully.

'I never thought…I guess I never thought that…that I wouldn't be able tell.' Her voice registered a faint amusement. The situation was overwhelming her. Every second it seemed more absurd and fantastic.

'But I remember that I was on the cliff…and I jumped,' she said. Seeing his confusion she added, unhelpfully, 'I made a wish.' Then her hands covered her face and she began to laugh. Bewildered, he waited a moment, watching her. Her shoulders shook as she continued to laugh, almost hysterically. He took hold of her hands, gently, and pulled them away from her face. Her laughter subsided as her eyes met his.

'I don't understand,' he said.

'I made a wish and here you are.' The words slipped out so easily. He still held her hands. They were both acutely aware of the touch they shared. She realized that she wasn't afraid of him; not the least bit. She, who had been raised to fear men's motives, to fear their carnality, and particularly to fear the dark skins and darker minds of the Indians, now found that she had no fear, only trust. She stepped closer to him, and eased a hand from his grasp. He was perfectly still as she reached out; in a moment her cold hand lay on his warm cheek. Another moment more and he gently took her wrist and, turning her palm to his lips, kissed it.

-o-

They sat down on an old fallen tree in the sunshine. The sun was higher in the sky now and it warmed their skin and clothes. They sat in silence and watched the river, whose ceaseless but peaceful flow seemed to carry with it unquiet thoughts.

Alice felt an ant crawl on her foot and as she reached absent mindedly to brushed it off, she thought, 'It is real, isn't it?' She smiled in wonder. 'The sun is real and the river is real and the ant is real…and Uncas and I are real.' The ant continued to make its slow way across her foot. She stared at it transfixed, as her mind followed on from this surprising realization.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Uncas began to speak.

'I was told a story once... a very old story, about a man and a woman who fell in love. They looked on each other once at a meeting of their tribes and knew that they were two halves of the one whole, and could not be parted. When their love was brought to the attention of her tribe's elders they forbade it. She was to be married to another man. It had always been so; from the moment of her birth she had been his to claim. What could the man and woman do? They knew that the judgment of the elders was like a mountain, immovable. There was no far place they could go to and live together peacefully. The warriors of her tribe would hunt for them, tirelessly, till they were found.

'They arranged to slip away together, away from their tribes, on a night of no moon. There was a great mountain overlooking the lands of their peoples, and they climbed it in the dark. They climbed all night, careless of the tracks they made, and as the sun began to rise they stood on a cliff high up the mountain. As they held hands on the cliff's edge they were so brave and young and beautiful in the morning light that the gods themselves were moved. The lovers jumped from the cliff and as they did they wished that they be never separated, that they be born always again, together. The gods took pity on them and granted their wish.'

-o-

She was silent for a while after his story was finished, her face clouded. He continued to stare away from her, his eyes on the river. The water eddied lazily; the sun shining on it created scattered crescents and starbursts of light.

When she spoke her voice was quiet and uncertain, halting. 'Well…do you believe it - the story?'

'I was a child when my grandmother told it to me. I believed it then.' Staring at the river, as though he saw something significant in it, something vague moving in and out of sight, he continued, 'I believe that sometimes the gods intervene, if it pleases them to do so.'

'But your gods are not mine. I do not believe in them.'

'Well, don't even your people say that your god answers prayers…that he grants wishes?'

'Yes, but…' She trailed off, sighed and frowned at him. 'Everyone prays, but…it's almost as though – well, you're not really supposed to expect him to answer…you're supposed to be humble and…and really just…_grateful _to have been born. It's his plan; you're not meant to second guess it.'

'But you did'

'I didn't…' She stopped and looked at him; a wry smile crept onto her features. 'Well, yes …I guess I did. But, I'm not like the woman in the story…I didn't really believe-'

'You misunderstand,' he said, cutting her short. He smiled. 'You see, they were humble too. It wasn't that they believed that their wish would come true… they believed only that it would be better that they died than live apart - and they believed it fiercely. They didn't expect salvation; they threw themselves at the mercy of the gods, knowing that they are fickle and cruel. It was their bravery that was rewarded, not their faith'

-o-

The sun shone down on them, beatifically, and the water shimmered; it was spangled like the night sky. With the heat of the day the surrounding forest had awakened; the faint hum of insects almost hidden by the rustling of the leaves of the trees; willow oaks and sugar maples, resplendent in the pale and glowing green of mid spring. Uncas and Alice heard a nearby bird start up its piping song; delicate notes like those of an ocarina. Soon another bird, also nearby, joined in; their sweet songs merging in harmony. Two birds singing, and one young lover holding the hand of another.

It was a beautiful day to be born.


End file.
